


Farewell, please...

by rosi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dornish nobles, F/M, House Vaith, Love at First Sight, Minor Character(s), Sex eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:24:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8270749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosi/pseuds/rosi
Summary: Podrick Payne has a short, yet meaningful goodbye with his loved one and reflects on their time together.





	1. Chapter 1

He would never forget this moment. The look on her face was almost to much to bear. His lady, no, his  _ wife _ was not a woman easily brought to tears, but he could see as her jaw began to quiver as he leaned in to kiss her farewell.

“If I do not return-” 

“Don't say that.”

“If I do not return,” he began again “promise me that you will remarry.” 

“Why would I do that?” she asked. Her attempt at defiance failed her and although she was trying to be brave all her courage fled the moment their eyes met. 

Podrick Payne was a noble squire with an honorable heart. He was kind and clever and even strong when he needed to be. He was not, however, a warrior. He knew this, she knew this, all the lords and ladies in King’s Landing who bothered _knowing_ _him_ knew this. Yet, here he was ready to lay down his life in the name of trust and honor. There truly had never lived a more loyal squire.

Her copper cheeks shined wet with tears. Pod took took her face in his hands and placed his forehead against hers. So many years of bad luck had left him content with dying young at his lord’s side. He was still a squire after all, but he had to start thinking for more than himself now. This thought prompted his question.

“What can I do? H-how can I help, my lady?”

“Promise me...,” she started, her voice small but growing more powerful. “Promise me that you will fight valiantly and honor your sacred oaths to both your mission and myself. Promise me that you think quickly and act smartly so as to hasten your return. Promise me that you will…that you will  _ try. Please.”  _

Pod smiled a little and stroked his thumb across her cheek. 

“Yes, my lady,” he whispered. His heart ached for her. He hated to leave her, but he had job to do. He kissed her forehead before pulling her into a tight embrace. He would long for her warmth once they reached the North. 

She broke away from him and wiped a few stray tears from her cheek. 

“Very well, ser,” she said. She straightened herself and hardened her face. “See it done.” Without any further delay, she turned on her heel and left. 

He watched her skirts flutter about her feet as she turned the corner without looking back. Podrick cleared his throat and adjusted his belt. A strange sense of hope filled him as he saw Lord Jamie coming towards him. Somehow he knew he would see her again. But there was no time for sentiment now. He clasped his hands together and waited for instruction from his new lord. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pod recalls the day he met his Lady Wife

 When it came to her there were many more days he would not care to forget; included was the day that they met. It was an unreasonably hot afternoon in and out of doors, and even the canopy of leaves above them seemed to sweat as he, Ser Bronn, his lord Tyrion and a host of other nobles waited to welcome half of Dorne into the city. An hour passed on the Kingsroad with no sign of approaching nobility or arms, a sort of blessing, as it gave their unruly party a chance to settle in. The lesser lords stood garbed in their finest (silks or mail depending on the lord) and rode large war horses, though for many this was the first time astride something so powerful. Their lack of firm command combined with the heat, stirred anxiety among the animals and impatience among the riders. Of the houses represented outside King’s Landing all swore fealty to either the Lannisters or the Tyrells, many were old and proud, some were powerful, but none were great. Pod was the only Payne present and could proudly say that his house was one of finer pledged to Lord Tywin. Yet, on that day, he held the royal standard and not his own.

Before his thoughts could linger too long in the past and grow sorrowful, Lord Tyrion called him to attention. Further down the dry road nine banners rose from a cloud of dust. When asked, Pod named them all and stood tall as they grew closer.

While Lord Tyrion exchanged pleasantries with the leader of the van, Pod took time to memorize each face before him for future reference. _Stony Ser Qorgyle, the slender Lord Uller and his bearded brother Ulwyck,_ he counted, taking an extra pause to study Dickon Manwoody’s pox scars. Podrick made a note to say a prayer to the Mother later, for although he was a sickly child he never suffered a pox. When the lords of the company stood eleven abreast on the road, their lithe stallions calm and beautiful, Ser Deziel Dalt waved his right hand to call forth the great women of the south. Podrick’s eyes moved more slowly over the women present for a pretty face is difficult to find when yours is so easily forgotten. Each appeared more genteel than the next with their wide eyes, delicate hands and fanciful clothing.

“May I present Lady Larra Blackmont, her daughter Jynessa, Myria Jordayne, heir to the Tor, and the Young Visenya heir to Vaith,” announced the Lord of Lemonwood. The red veil of Visenya Vaith’s traveling turban covered half of her face, leaving much to the imagination. However, she chose to leave her toned arms bare save for golden bangles that jingled as she steadied her gelding with one hand and held the banner of House Vaith with the other.

“It is no wonder that your journey to the capital was so swift and comfortable when in such fine company.” Lord Tyrion smiled for a moment and his scar stretched into a thick white line across his face. “Forgive me, but I do not see Prince Doran in your company.”

“The Prince’s health keeps him in Sunspear. He sends his brother, Prince Oberyn to attend the royal wedding in his stead.” Visenya Vaith spoke clearly and curtly from behind her red veil. She took a step forward as Tyrion inquired about the _other_ Prince’s presence. “Prince Oberyn arrived before dawn. Not a man for welcome parties our Prince nor does his temper allow him to humor those who attempt shallow courtesies.” Podrick’s head tilted to the side, as she answered his lord in a lady’s voice, but in a manner more suited to Ser Bronn. Her accent was also puzzling. The Dornish drawl was more tame in highborn mouths, but rather than adopt the Northern standard her low voice echoed and called back to another far away place.

Lord Tyrion began to introduce all in the royal van to which Ser Dalt kicked his horse and rode through, cutting a path between the sweaty lords and gold cloaks sun-reddened cheeks. One by one his host followed behind him until the royal party fell off the road entirely, himself, Ser Bronn, and Lord Tyrion included.

“Some accomplished diplomacy that was,” mocked Ser Bronn before turning away. At the very moment Podrick let down the banner to follow his lord, a strong wind picked up from the East. With it came a soft thump against the ground behind him though he was careful not to let his sworn lord’s flag drop.

“Ser! Ser! ” called a voice. He turned expecting to see trouble, but found only Lady Vaith. _Visenya._ Atop her white horse with her red veil flying beside her and her salty skin glinting like a gold dragon in the sun she... _She looks like a queen. Queen Nymeria is come again and here she stands before me._ “Ser?” she asked again this time quieter than the last and directed at him he realized.

“M-my lady?” he inquired at once while cursing himself for his failure to answer sooner. Their gazes met and perhaps she batted her eyelashes and perhaps Pod gaped. She tightened her grip around the banner staff and took a sharp breath.

“Your purse, Ser. It fell.” Pod’s hand went to his side and indeed the purse was gone to grass when he braced the banner against his hip. The coin remained unspilled.

“Thank you very much, my lady.”

“You are welcome, Ser,” said she and nodded her head. She turned forward again ready to ride to the Red Keep and away from him for what seemed like far too long without a proper goodbye.

“Podrick!”

“Come again?”

"Lady Vaith, I am no Ser- no knight, that is. I am only Pod the Squire,” he explained.

“Then I am only Visenya,” she offered. “Courtesy or not, you are not sworn to me or my father, therefore there is no need for you to address me as Lady Vaith.” Podrick opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out.

“Farewell, Pod the Squire. I hope you have not kept your little lord waiting too long.”

“Until we meet again... _miss_.” He watched a smile reach her eyes which turned a shade of amber when greeted with sunlight.

She kicked her gelding and went on down the procession to join the others of her house.  She handed the banner to a younger boy. A brother? He did not have time observe more or even ask; Lord Tyrion was calling and Bronn was bellowing with laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pod learns to play cards and has his first date

Most everyday, and always no less than three days a week, Lord Tyrion dismissed his squire for a few quiet hours alone in the midafternoon. Podrick, who thought highly of his liege lord’s son, took to thinking that Lord Tyrion spent these hours reading, sleeping or otherwise engaging in similarly intimate pastimes that did not need his service. Likewise, Podrick was inclined to spend his recess engaging in activities that did not need Tyrion. He saw to his personal chores and bathed. The rest of the time he spent with his nose between a book brushing up on his knowledge of the great houses of Westeros and their wars.

Today, however, Ser Bronn had sought him out intending to teach him to play cards. It was out of character for the knight, who he knew prefered to spend his free time in a brothel, but Pod appreciated the invitation nonetheless. Thus they sat in a shady corner in the gardens while Bronn grew red in the face.

 _“Seven hells!”_ Bronn hissed as Pod laid out a full deck. He made to collect the pile of coins that had grown high as the sun too rose to its highest point in the sky. Bronn slapped his hand over Pod’s. “You’re a liar! Smile and blush all you want! I see you for what you are!”

“I’m not a liar,” Pod reaffirmed. Although, he had never been asked to play before he _had_ seen others at it and learned the rules and the best strategies.

“Then you sure are damn _fucking_ _lucky_ ,” Bronn retracted his meaty paw and shook his head. Podrick couldn’t help but laugh. He was used to being underestimated and rightfully so most of the time. But then there were times when his mind and body worked in harmony to shock the world and give him something to smile about. Still, he cared for the lost sellsword, and divided the handful of silver stags and copper stars, pushing half towards his partner.

“Don’t go feeling sorry for me, now,” he handed him the deck of cards. “Hmp. A fair trade. Now go find someone else to swindle.” Pod stood while Bronn laughed at his own japes. He punched Pod in the arm before walking off, whistling a tune he said Marei had taught him.

Pod started the walk back to Maegor’s Holdfast and was nearing the Godswood alone when he heard a soft chime coming from the other side of the hedge. A few steps down and small stone path appeared. Half worried that a dog had escaped the kennel or a goat wandered there from the pens, Pod stopped to peek around the bush. To his surprise, and his delight, it was not a loosed animal, but a woman.

At the end of the path stood Visenya Vaith. She wore a long orange dress, embroidered at the hem and sleeves with tiny black waves that faded into shadowy pleats of her skirt. The lady’s hair fell in two long braids that crossed at the nape of her neck before continuing over her bare shoulders, stopping below her ribs. She bounced ever so slightly on balls of her feet to better examine a bushel of goldenbells thus causing the ones at the end of her hair to make their own music. However, it would seem that the music in her ears was not enough to drown out Pod’s own.

She stopped and whipped her head around to meet the fool who would laugh at her. Pod ducked back behind the bush, but it did him no good. She had seen him and her bells clang like symbols as she made her way towards him.

“I know you’re there,” she called out. He gritted his teeth, cursing his foolishness.“I don’t hear you running. For your sake, I hope that you can hide well.”

“There is no need to hide, my lady,” Pod confessed and stepped around the corner with his hands in the air. “I admit to my follies and offer you my most sincere apology, my lady.” He lowered his hands and bowed low, rising only at her command.

“Podrick the Squire, I accept your apology and you are well met,” she said with a perfect mix of grace and slight.

“Thank you, my lady,” he answered. It had been two days since he saw her last on the Kingsroad. Then looking down on him from astride her great destrier she looked like royalty. Presently, she still maintained her regal posture, but it was she who had to look up at him. He stood nearly a head taller than her, but did not meet her gaze as before. Instead he studied the hem of her dress and decided he like the tiny waves. _But shouldn’t they be panthers,_ he wondered.

“What brings you to the gardens, Ser Squire?” she asked.

“I spend to afternoon here. I mean, I spent the afternoon here,” he stumbled.

“Alone?”  

“With a friend. My lord grants me time to myself each day, so that he may enjoy his privacy, my lady.”

 _“Visenya,”_ she reminded him.

“What brings you to the gardens...Visenya?” Podrick ventured only to speak her name. He smiled and looked her in the eye.

“In truth,” she began “I am lost. Someone told me that the quickest way to the Godswood was past the throne room, around the kitchens and through the gardens. The rest was simple enough, but it is easy to get turned around in this little maze. My eyes dart from one flower to the next, my ears guide me to singers and couples hiding in the corners.”

“Who directed you?”

“I don’t know his name," she confessed, "A pale man with thunderbolts on his breastplate? We met outside the stables.”

“Ser Laygood.” He nodded. “He, um, lied too you, my lady. The quickest way is through the bailey. He only instructed you to follow the path least traveled by Tyrells.”  

“Well, that was rather cruel of him, don’t you think? I could have taken a wrong turn and walked off the cliff face. Although, when said aloud it seems plausible that this was his intention.” She eyed him, gauging his reaction.

“Perhaps,” he admitted. “Though I would hope not. I will seek to advise him against plotting so in the future. A-and I would gladly escort you to the Godswood.”

“How kind of you. And how poor of the capital to produce more honorable squires than knights.” Heat rose to his cheeks and she giggled. He could only imagine how he looked. ‘ _Pod the Tomato’ might suit me more nicely._ All the same she took his arm and let him lead her to the heart of the Godswood.

“May I touch it?” she asked in a whisper as she stood before the solemn heart tree. He nodded. She knelt before it, resting her knees on one of the roots, and traced the eyes with her fingers. “Do you keep the Old Gods?”

“No, my lady.” She did not correct him this time.

“We do not have a Godswood in Vaith,” she explained and beckoned for him to sit beside her.

“Well...most woods are larger and have weirwoods as heart trees. And the faces of those trees weep red tears.”

“Of sap, that is. My maester told me as much when I was a child.”

“Apologies, my lady.”

“You do not offend me, Ser Squire.” She leaned in as if to tell him a secret. “The smallfolk in my lands say that Vaith’s Godswood sank beneath the sands long ago.” He had heard this story before, but enjoyed to hear her retell it. When Queen Rhaenys first flew to Dorne she meant to take Vaith first, but became lost. Years later, during the war, Harlen Tyrell marched from Hellhot to take the Dornish seat, but could not find it. He walked up and down the river for miles, but the castle and all of its court had vanished. They say that both times the old Andal lord called upon seven to protect his people and hid them in the dunes. When the castle rose again they had taken the woods and its weeping trees as tithe.

She finished her tall tale and looked up at the heart tree, tracing the shadowberry vine from its mouth down to Pod’s hand. It was very quiet, he realized. The only sound was Visenya’s tiny bells which shook with every rise and fall of her chest. Pod swallowed unsure of what to say.

“Have you heard the tale of the breaking of the Neck?” he asked. She shook her head no, and so went the rest of his afternoon. They sat under the heart tree trading stories and histories, and he had almost coaxed her into singing him a song when they heard someone else approaching.

“Could I see you again tomorrow?” she asked, holding his arm. 

“Perhaps,” he answered, guiding her away from the tree. "I would have have to speak to my lord."

“Yes," she teased. "Your little lord would keep you from me."

"I will try," he said.

"And I will wait for you by the goldenbells,” she promised. “For an hour after midday.” Her earnestness stunned him, and when he looked down he saw no mischief in her eyes. She bade him farewell with a little curtsy before departing.

“Goodbye, Visenya,” he whispered once she was out of sight. He leaned against a nearby tree and sighed. Slowly, he made his way out of the Godswood. It was only when he reached the gates and noticed the sun dial’s positions that he picked up his pace.


	4. Chapter 4

He did not see her the next day, and though he made careful not to show his disappointment, his heart sank lower and lower with every task Lord Tyrion gave him. Instead he worked as he always did; quickly, quietly, and hard. He, Lady Sansa’s maids, and a small host of other household workers labored to move their belongings from Maegor’s Holdfast to the apartments in the Kitchen’s Keep. Her majesty gave it to Lord Tyrion as a belated wedding gift.

Although, he could count all his belongings on his hand, it seemed everyone else could not. The move required most of the day and once completed it was time for dinner. Once or twice he swore that he could hear her bells. Their laughter echoed from over the hedges and across the bailies, but she evaded his sight.

He laid down for bed that night, wrapped in his new furs, and thought of the days to come. The wedding was nearly a month away, as was the new year, and every Lannister in the Red Keep grew more anxious and irritable by the day.  _ Lady Sansa is forgiven,  _ he thought.  _ She doesn’t deserve anyone else’s scorn. And Lord Tyrion. He saved everyone and bears their weight on his shoulders now. And they are kind to me… _

They next day was slower than the last, but still troublesome. The Dornish nobles had rooms in a tower facing the city while their party set up three great tens in their corner of the yard. Pod was serving lunch when Ser Bronn brought news of a fight he had broken up outside.

“It was the hag’s fault,” he said. “She called the Viper’s woman a whore to her face. Their  _ champions  _ are in cells.”

“Good of you,” Lord Tyrion sighed and pinched his nose. “Was anyone else hurt? Anymore fleeting peace disturbed?”

“The hens retreated to their cocks. Most of ‘em anyway. I saw a pair wander into the gardens when I was coming in here,” Pod poured Bronn a cup of wine. The knight took a seat at the table.

“Lady Olenna will be speaking to my father about this no doubt and he will come, complain to me and command me to make our guests behave. The women will be fine. They have their own weapons of which I hope to never see.”

“You and me both.” Bronn drank.

“Leave us Podrick,” Lord Tyrion ordered.

“And the food,” Bronn said, piling a few things on Tyrion’s empty plate and claiming it as his own.

“Be back an hour before sunset.”

“Yes, my lord,” Pod bowed and slipped into the hallway. He maintained a calm and orderly pace until he reached the gardens. Then he all but sprinted towards his destination for fear he had missed her again. He stopped a little ways before to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his brow. He turned the corner to find the promise kept a day over. She sat in a pool of silks, her knees bent, as she lounged on a large green pillow. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders decorated with a bushel of goldenbells behind her ear. Her dress was blue today, and its sleeves blew gently in the wind like clouds.

_ I have met the Maid today. _

“I thought you had forgotten me, Podrick,” she said without looking up from her needlework.

“No, Visenya,” he cleared his throat. “I don’t believe I could.”

“Is that so?” she rose, holding her hoop in front of her. From the cloth, a roaring black panther looked up at him. He smiled. 

Podrick and Visenya spent a fortnight in the hidden corners of the Red Keep, predominantly the Godswood. Although, Podrick liked to venture to the cliff sides and the towers, places that Tyrion once told him little birds don’t fly.

“We live in stolen moments,” she once whispered as they stood looking over the bay.  _ But we are safe. _

As they grew to trust one another they began to share their life’s story as well as tales. She described Dorne with such fervor that Pod felt like he was there, watching from behind a glass. Her mother was lowborn and met the young Lord of the Red Dunes when she was caught trying to rob the castle. He told her that he should take her hands.  _ ‘Why bother when they would happily be yours?’  _ her mother then asked. Visenya’s father took her as prisoner, then a servant, then a ward and finally a wife.

“‘The Lost Lady Meryeme’ they called her, at first. Mother could talk her way out of a beheading,” she confessed, as he lowered her from her saddle another day, having returned from a hunt with Lady Jynessa. 

“She sounds like a very clever woman, my lady,” he said, keeping up the formalities in front of the stable hands. 

“She must have been to have produced this one,” Lady Jynessa said with a smile. Podrick removed the satchel from the back of his lady’s horse; she was a very good shot and had taken down three geese at the edge of the Kingswood. He handed them off to one of the Dornish men and asked that they be taken to the kitchen. All the while his ears paid close attention to the women’s conversation. 

Lady Jynessa praised Visenya’s talent with a bow. Lady Vaith responded by complimenting her horses: the finest, fastest and purest breed in all of Dorne. Both promised to speak more with one another at dinner, after a much needed bath. Jynessa disappeared across the yard towards her room in the tower, meanwhile Visenya lingered with the squire. 

“I’m glad she let you come,” she whispered as her Dornish hands left them to perform their other chores. “Especially, when everyone seems to think you're a spy.”

“Have you ever considered that everyone else is right?” he asked. She raised an eyebrow at him and he lost his resolve. He turned the corner with a grin as they walked down the pass, away from the stables. 

“You're too kind to lie to me, Pod. It is one of the reasons that I worried about you.”

“One of the reasons?” he asked taking her hand to lead her down a rugged foot trail he discovered the day before. He had hoped to explore it with her. “What are the others?”

“You can't ride a horse. You are a squire to a Lord and not a knight; that Lord has kept you from proper training. You are honorable, Podrick in a dishonorable world and a wretched city,” she listed off her troubles so passionately she did not notice when Podrick came to a stop. He caught her by her shoulders and turned her around to face him. 

“I'm sorry that I have caused you so much trouble.”

“You aren't any trouble, Podrick,” she promised, laying a hand upon his cheek. She opened her mouth to explain, but found that she could not. They searched each other's eyes looking for the words to describe the place they had found within their shared company. He shouldn’t feel this way. Not for her. Podrick closed his eyes in shame and a deep blush spread across his cheeks. 

Visenya giggled and took his hand again. “Come on, squire. Worries can wait. We have exploring to do.” She pulled him down the path, grinning. At the end of it they found a rocky shore and the bay stretched out as far as the eye could see. The stones gave way to pebbles and sand by the waters edge. Visenya removed her riding cloak and boots before rolling the legs of her pants up to wade into the water. Podrick waited for her on the shore until her pleas moved him to join her. They stayed there for hours as Podrick assuage her fears with promises of Tyrion’s  _ good intentions _ . 


End file.
